


rest your head on my lies

by nutteu



Series: Toast/Sykkuno [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, F/M, Light Brodin/Sykkuno, M/M, Soul Bond, Sykkuno-Centric, Unrequited Love, there are a lot of cuddles involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nutteu/pseuds/nutteu
Summary: Soulmates really were just about falling asleep in the kitchen, forgetting to breathe when you weren’t together, and letting them go because that was what supposed to happen. [Toast/Sykkuno; soulmates au]
Relationships: Brodin Plett & Sykkuno, Janet Rose/Jeremy Wang, Sykkuno/Jeremy Wang
Series: Toast/Sykkuno [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149494
Comments: 16
Kudos: 72





	rest your head on my lies

**Author's Note:**

> a lot of this doesn't make sense. i intentionally keep some of things vague to keep the sense of one person's point of view. in this au sykkuno came earlier and stayed longer in otv house. this can be read as a standalone without the second chapter, which idk when i'll write btw haha. i listened to a lot of shawn james' songs when i wrote this, i just found out about him last night and man damn, that man's voice is amazing.
> 
> songs used for this fic:  
> [The Guardian](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PgXMIAhDZ1g) | [Take on Me (Ellie's Version)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICg_xqBBN2g) | [When I'm Gone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jRYDFHnGuQ)
> 
> the entirety of the last part was written with The Guardian on repeat. it works with the reading too, as i feel like the feelings come across a little clearer with the song on the background. enjoy the read.

* * *

Around the time Toast didn’t manage to realize that Sykkuno wanted his attention in too many occasions, Sykkuno started picking up his cigarettes. Lily worried about it, Brodin worried about it— _heck_ , even Scarra cornered him one time to ask about the weather and how he was doing. He just stammered and smiled and said that the weather was a bit damp because they were nearing fall, he was alright Scarra, _really_ , and he just wanted to know how it was like to smoke, really.

Sykkuno didn’t say that he had smoked before, didn’t say that the weather was mucking up his already downtrodden feelings. He absolutely didn’t say anything about how his chest started to feel like it was constricting the more he hesitantly stood in front of Toast’s room without saying anything about his presence. He knew that there was no way people would realize that he was there unless he _said_ anything first, but Sykkuno was a soft child, made exactly like that by his grandmother and doting family. He was hopeful, and he understood that his tendencies didn’t bode well with reality.

He just thought that Toast would pick up on it soon, you know? The way that Sykkuno was painfully aware of his presence even with rooms separating them, the way he knew what Toast wanted, could read into his schemes and could figure out in an instant what Toast was trying to do so he could act accordingly. Wouldn’t it be terribly romantic if Toast could reach out for once instead of raising his brows every time Sykkuno wanted a little bit of his time, his attention?

It would be. But it would also be a hypothetical situation since it would never happen, a mere fantasy that Sykkuno hid beneath the falling leaves. It would just rot and die; in no time it would be covered in layers of snow and disappear into the earth by the time spring came around.

After all, what he could do when Toast didn’t even realize that he owned the half of Sykkuno’s soul?

* * *

It was impossible from the get go, to be honest.

By the time Lily introduced them, Sykkuno had already broke his heart on the fact that he was terribly perceptive of the sudden warmth and exhilaration in his chest. The euphoria and the feeling of finally being _whole_ for the first time in his life; like his unconscious search for something to fill the void in his chest was finally over. But it was short-lived and, quite hilariously, over within twenty minutes flat. Like some sort of unfulfilling fornication with a stranger that left you bereft and uncomfortable; the regret and guilt over doing something that you were hopeful for.

Sykkuno grasped Toast’s hand and it felt funny because he was reminded of that scene in Harry Potter where Harry got his chosen wand for the first time. The feeling of magic and completion, the glow and the pleasant surprise on his face upon finding something that was _intended_ for him, regardless of the disconcerting connection between his wand and Voldemort’s. Sykkuno felt like there was a proverbial glow around his head when he finally found _him_.

He was painfully shy around strangers, made even more so because of the dark years in his life. Lily had helped, his new circle of friends had tremendously boosted his confidence, but it was still hard to be relaxed and not constantly on guard for condescending look and mocking words from people. Sykkuno got better at bracing himself for those, but it had never meant that he was immune. The water could never be under the bridge in this case, it would just pile up and drown him. He just got better at learning how to swim regardless the depth.

Meeting Toast felt like taking air for the first time, resting his tired limbs on an island. But as much as taking a gulp of air felt good, when your lungs had been filled with water for too long, it could also be painful. Sykkuno felt freedom of air and happiness for all of those meager minutes before the other shoe dropped.

“Toast is with Janet, you know Janet right, Sykkuno? We’ve played with her before.”

Lily’s voice was her soft-cadence when she talked, but Sykkuno went rigid, his blood turning into ice in his veins. All he could think of was _oh_ , and felt his heart shattered because of course he would be denied this one thing too.

“Y-yeah,” he said with difficulty. His mouth didn’t feel like it was working right, and trying to talk, or even breathe hurt a lot more than he thought. “She’s really nice.”

Lily laughed and slapped Toast’s back. “She is,” she said, fond. “I don’t know how she even puts up with Toast.”

Toast laughed as well, putting out an affronted face for show. “Hey,” he said, “I’ll have you know I’m delightful to be around.”

_You are_ , Sykkuno thought and it was just ridiculous because they hadn’t even known each other for more than an hour and he already felt like he’d known Toast his whole life. It shouldn’t make sense, too. Just because someone was your soulmate, didn’t necessarily mean that you know everything about them. Except on those extremely rare case of people who were together their whole lives and just happened to be soulmates, filling each other’s heart long before they understood the intricacy of their entanglement.

So he just awkwardly laughed, and never let himself show the pain and misery in his eyes. He did alright; people just thought it was his awkward disposition instead of the telltales of his heart breaking apart.

Soulmates were far and few in-between the population in this world. A lot of people didn’t even believe in those, and Sykkuno understood why. They could never know when they met their soulmates, and some people could search their whole life and still didn’t find the specific person that was most compatible with them. The only thing that was described by those who did was just a vague line like, “You feel it in your heart. You just know it when you found the _one_ ,” and how did people even suppose to go from there? There was absolutely no marking, no physical tells of when people met their soulmates. It was honestly easy to understand why people thought it was just a myth.

Sykkuno had always been a romantic, though. It made his life more difficult, and simultaneously softer. He was always unsure and fuzzy around the edges, like he couldn’t quite settle into his shape. He supposed the idea of finding his soulmate would fix that somehow, so they could fill in places that he didn’t even know were empty up until he met them. But now, seeing the broad line of Toast’s shoulders, the slant of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the way he talked ever so softly with such outrageous words, the way that he was unfailingly _not_ Sykkuno’s, he finally understood that he had been too hung up on the subject of happy ending.

There could be no happy ending in this, of that he was sure. Not when Toast didn’t even twitch when he saw Sykkuno, didn’t look any different when they grasped hand for the first time. Not when Toast didn’t even spare him any more than necessary glances. Because why would he? Sykkuno was just a scrawny, acne-ridden kid that Lily brought around the circle of their friends. To him, Sykkuno was just a stranger that had the possible potential of being his acquaintance, friend at best. No more, could be less.

It felt like he was doused with freezing water, with pins and needles in the bucket that pricked and nicked at his skin. Sykkuno felt each painful second he spent sitting on the seat of the café they decided to meet at. He listened to them talking, nodding and giving his replies at appropriate interval and secretly wished that he wasn’t as polite as he was. Because all he wanted was to go home, and curl up on his bed and maybe shed a tear or two over something that he knew deep, _deep_ down was impossible. His grandma would ask, and he would tell her, and she would sigh and hug him and say that this kind of thing happened all the time in this world.

Even something as predetermined as soulmates were not as certain as people thought. Sykkuno learned the hard way of that particular truth.

He had wanted to stay away, too. Just the thought of spending more time with someone that he knew wholeheartedly could own his heart, someone who didn’t even bat an eyelash at Sykkuno, who was already in a loving, steady relationship with another, gave another painful pang to his heart. It always sent him into a jitter every time they played together, Toast’s voice washed over him from the earphones. Sykkuno was pretty good in masking his emotions in front of the camera, in front of people, friends and family alike. All they saw was the confused, endearing awkwardness that seemed to bleed all over his pores. He was content with that.

He didn’t know how to handle things if people found out that the scattered pieces of his heart break even further, ground themselves into dust each time he heard Toast’s voice, met him in person, saw Janet being so close and having something that Sykkuno could never have. It made bile rise in his throat each time he was jealous because it was disgusting—they were obviously happy, why would he resent that? Soulmates didn’t always mean two people in a relationship; soulmates were finding someone who knew and could understand him, to whom he felt the most comfortable with because there was a questionably unquestionable pull between the two of them.

But it seemed that Sykkuno was the only one who felt it; the urge to be close, couldn’t keep his eyes off of Toast even from the screen, who desperately wanted to press close to his side and tell him that Sykkuno would accept and love him even without the whole soulmates shenanigans thrown in the picture. He wasn’t blind: Toast was attractive—physically, intelligence and personality wise. He might not be everyone’s taste, but he was charming and he knew how to carry himself with an air of certainty. He was a good friend, and Sykkuno felt the guilt churning in his gut because he hung onto Toast’s words just a little bit too much.

Toast saw it as Sykkuno’s tendency of gravitating towards louder people who would fill in the silence that Sykkuno left in his wake. Because he did have that; he was unsure and hesitating for the most of his life, and people like Lily and Rae, who were unabashed in their affections, support, and insults, they were a breath of fresh air and they made him believe that it was alright to let up a little. Believe in himself more, be a little louder so he could be heard. They made him believe that he didn’t have to be a pushover, a wallflower all his life. He could have a drink, maybe traipse up the dance floor and wiggling stiffly to the music.

Sykkuno didn’t correct him. He let Toast assumed without ever putting his input because he was too afraid that he would get overly personal and accidentally tell Toast about the whole disastrous soulmate affair. He couldn’t do that to him. Not when Janet and he were still going strong, and they seemed to find comfort and affections in each other. Besides, Toast had never expressed that he was interested in men, even if he was pretty… _unconventional_. For Sykkuno to drop the bomb, while he was still involved with someone he loved, only to find out that Sykkuno, someone who was decidedly not a woman in any form, was his supposed other half—it would be a miracle if he still wanted to be in contact.

He feared that Toast would think that he had his own hidden agenda, that everything Sykkuno did was only a ploy of some sort. In truth, he _still_ wanted to know how it’d feel to hold Toast’s hand and waking up to his dumb sleeping face in the morning, but Toast was also a dear friend and he cared about him a lot. Despite his bitter feelings, he had surrendered since the first time they met. He had mulled and cried and smoked his lungs away about it. In the end, all he could understand, beneath all the disappointment and sadness, was just his pure desire to see Toast happy. That was it.

So he settled on that. It didn’t matter what kind of relationship they had, whether Toast wanted him as a soulmate or not; everything wouldn’t matter anymore since Sykkuno couldn’t do anything about it. So he resigned himself as an awkwardly clingy friend, who praised and ‘ _simped_ ’ for Toast in their streams, and tried his best to forget, to move on, to _accept_ , that this was just another thing that Sykkuno simply wasn’t allowed to have by the universe.

If all he could have was friendship, then he’d take it. He couldn’t stay away, and Sykkuno took a breath to laugh at his misery. He loved too dearly, with too much of his heart that it was always hard to recover from the impact of plunging straight into the hard ground. It would be okay, too. He could have just the tiniest bit of Toast to pacify this bond that would never have its other half, and just—go along with it until Toast happily married someone else, and Sykkuno was left to blindly scramble for something, _anything_ to fill the yawning gap in his heart. It would be _okay_.

And then he moved into the house, and every single one of his resolve laughably crumbled to pathetic dust.

* * *

“Didn’t know you smoke,” Toast remarked one day.

Sykkuno almost drop his cigarette, startled out of his daydream and thoughts that were quickly spiraling downward into the familiar dark depth. He caught it in nick time, and gave Toast a small smile. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s an old habit.”

Toast raised an eyebrow at that, like he could see through things Sykkuno couldn’t say. Sometimes he wished that Toast could actually do that; so he would know, so he would understand the conflicting feelings that he tried to quell lest it’d bother him every waking moment and keeping him from doing anything. He got a pretty good lid on it, but sometimes it still leaked through and he would quickly open his drawer and find somewhere else to smoke in the house.

“Scarra said you’re just trying it out, see how it feels,” he said, and though his tone was low, his words were pretty much an accusation. “Wasn’t aware that you’ve been doing this long before that.”

Sykkuno looked down, properly chastised and embarrassed because he still didn’t know how to lie on certain things to this man. That was what he got from having an obvious bias. “I don’t want to make him worried.”

Toast sat next to him and twirled Sykkuno’s cigarette package between his fingers. Sykkuno watched the long, elegant digits dancing around the small box, and kept a smile to himself. Toast’s fingers were longer and rougher than his, but they were still pretty to look at. He couldn’t remember just how much he had thought about slotting his own between them, interlocking and having Toast squeezed just as tight.

“It’s pretty late for that,” Toast told him, not really stern but Sykkuno could read between the lines.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

The man shrugged. “Not really our business. Even if people knew, it’s still up to you how you’ll handle it. They’re just worried because they’ve never seen you do this kind of thing.”

He didn’t know what was on his mind at that moment, apparently he decided to blurt out things without filtering them through. “There are a lot of things people don’t know about me.”

Toast looked at him, and Sykkuno swallowed the nervousness about his slip. But all he did was laugh and patted Sykkuno on his back. His palm was warm and large, and he physically reigned himself from leaning into it.

“You don’t say,” he said in good humor. “You keeping things from me too, Sykkuno? I thought you like me.”

_More than you know_ , he said out loud in the privacy of his thoughts. He smiled along and acted like he was in on the joke. “I would never,” he lied.

Toast’s hand stopped, and Sykkuno felt his heart dropped. Did he realize?

“Maybe,” Toast said, taking pity on the deer-on-the-headlights expression on Sykkuno’s face. “Knocking sometimes don’t work. Try actually going in inside people’s rooms, you know we don’t lock doors unless we’re jerking off or something.”

He felt his cheeks warmed from the crude words, and the mental imagery they supplied him with. Gods, he really was a little bonker in the head for shamelessly thinking about Toast’s long fingers wrapped around—around—

He was saved out of his reverie from Toast’s returning laughter. “You’re too easy,” he said, and Sykkuno smiled because there was something fond in Toast’s voice, however small it was. “Just fucking barge in or something, Sykkuno. You can sit at the corner of my bed or do whatever instead of smoking.”

He scrunched up his nose. “I smoke pretty often, though?”

Toast sighed and pulled his hand away. Sykkuno bit his lip to prevent himself from asking it back, he missed it already. “Fine,” he said, face flat and was probably done babying Sykkuno for the day. “Stay in my room all day, then.”

It was stupid, because hope bloomed in his chest, unbidden. He was still pathetically hanging onto that thin thread of bond between them, despite his resolution of giving up and accepting the fact that he could never have a spot higher than ‘streaming friend’ in Toast’s life. He trampled down the hope and reminded himself that it was futile, that he would only get more heartbreaks. So why bother? Toast would just ignore him and do his own things if Sykkuno hung out in his room all day, every day.

“I’m joking, Toast,” he said around a strained laugh.

Toast’s face still set on that flat, hard lines and nodded. “Sure,” he said, and made to get up. “Get inside after you’re done. Your stream is in half an hour.”

He nodded and tried to feel less small and unsure when the glass door was closed behind him.

It was hard to not be hyper aware of Toast’s presence, his words, his eyes. If he thought that it was hard when they were miles away and only met through online meanings, then this was a whole new brand of torture; to have Toast just a few rooms away, with an invitation to ‘barge in or something’ into his, to have occasional dinner and lunch together in the kitchen, to spend times in the backyard or the living room. Sykkuno almost felt like he was slowly turning into a masochist from the pain he inflicted on himself as he took a seat near Toast, risking glances at him and having some of them returned when he wasn’t aware, having Toast’s hand on his back, or encircling his wrist as he tugged Sykkuno to move faster, _you slowpoke_.

It had only been a few weeks and already he was feeling like all those times he spent thinking about what he wanted to do about his predicament, all those promises that he gave himself of trying to tone down his feelings, he felt like they were just exercises in futile. He felt like a fool, and most of all, he felt like he was going to ruin everything just because of his baseless desires from something that Toast might not even believe in.

Sometimes he thought, what if Toast wasn’t his soulmate, and they were just two regular people who happened to be in the same circle of friends, doing the same job. He wondered if he would fall all the same, if he would feel the same urge to pull that man into his arm and be embraced back. Maybe he would, but it probably wouldn’t feel as intense, as consuming.

He felt guilty, too. Because he felt shallow, he felt like he didn’t actually love Toast as a person and instead putting him into a distorted version in his mind through thick layers of soulmate-filter. He felt guilty because he was basically heaping his feelings onto Toast when he didn’t even have any obligation to consider them at all. They all had their own lives, and it didn’t matter whether they were soulmates or not. Sykkuno was just a little too sentimental for his own good.

Maybe it didn’t really have to be Toast. Maybe Sykkuno was too touch-starved, and had too many absences of connections to other people in his life that he just latched onto the concept of soulmate and forced it into something he hoped for. Maybe all he wanted was attention and love from anyone, and his insect brain just selfishly decided that it had to be Toast. Yeah, maybe he just had to meet more people, broaden his horizon, and stop imprinting his improper, inappropriate desires on Toast.

He sucked in the nicotine and closed his eyes. He wished that it really was that easy.

* * *

Sykkuno waddled and went into Toast’s room almost two weeks later. He signed to Sykkuno to keep his voice hushed because he was still streaming. He nodded and awkwardly stood around the corner, until Toast rolled his eyes and gestured for the bed. He ambled there with wide eyes and heart pounding painfully in his chest. The bed was tidy and he bounced a little as he sat on it. It smelled like their shared detergent and something that he pinpointed as Toast’s natural musk because it seemed familiar enough on his nose. He decided to ignore how creepy it sounded like for him to know about Toast’s _scent_.

He was sitting rigid with his back straight at first, but then minutes went by and Toast’s voice was soothing, even when he was making weird noises and shouting at something on the screen. Sykkuno shifted until his back met the wall, and slumped further as Toast marinated the whole lobby. He was playing with Hafu, it seemed. Hafu was nice, he thought. Toast was also nice, in his own subtle, roundabout way. Sykkuno was often on the receiving end of people’s unique brand of affection lately; Rae’s though love, Lily’s fastidiously calming care, Jack’s wholehearted support, and Toast’s nearly invisible warmth on his back as he pushed Sykkuno through uncomfortable ordeals to make him grow.

He didn’t realize he was falling asleep until Toast suddenly threw him a pillow, startling him awake. The man just grinned and lounged against the headboard. He looked good and comfortable; Sykkuno kind of wanted to settle next him and look up as he talked. It would be weird to do that though.

“So,” Toast drawled out, eyebrows wiggling ridiculously. “What can I do to entertain you today?”

He laughed a little and hugged the thrown pillow to his chest. “I don’t know,” he said truthfully. “I just wanna hang around and talk, I guess? But I was falling asleep. I’m sorry.”

Toast shrugged. “You can sleep here, I’m not going to molest you, _Sy-_ kkuno,” he teased, and whipped out his phone to probably scroll through Twitter.

Sykkuno blushed because he stupidly wanted Toast to actually touch him. Yet despite the embarrassment, he wasn’t about to deny the offer when it was presented. He scooted up the bed, and carefully lay down a few scant inches from Toast. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“How’s the stream?” he tried, wincing from how stiff the question sounded.

Toast seemed to realize that because his lip quirked on the corner. “Could have been better, I didn’t get to mess with people as much today because they were all suspicious of me since the get go.”

“You’re just too smart, Toast,” he said, too fond and too sleepy to properly tone down the affection.

“Damn right I am,” Toast said, and Sykkuno was reminded that Toast instilled the habit of bragging and praising himself because he feared that no one would acknowledged his achievements in life. It made him sad, but it also made him appreciate Toast even more because he felt real that way. Other people might think that he was arrogant, that his reasoning was too mundane, but Toast was just another person in this overcrowded planet with his own thoughts and insecurities. He wasn’t always the perfect, cunning, hilariously comedic person in real life. He had his fair share of hardships and hurdles in overcoming them, too. “Do you even have enough sleep, man? You always look dead on your feet nowadays.”

“Can’t sleep sometimes,” he admitted, but didn’t say that he was rapidly losing sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about Toast. Maybe moving into the house wasn’t a good decision after, all.

“People will start to think that we’re slaving you away or something if you look like this on stream,” he said, and pulled at his blanket because Toast’s room was always freezing. He draped it over Sykkuno’s prone form, surprisingly. “Try to catch some sleep,” he told him, in the tone of someone who knew that his decisions wouldn’t be argued.

Sykkuno discreetly inhaled the scent from the soft fabric and snuggled closer into the blanket. “If- if you’re okay with me sleeping here.”

“Sure, as long as we’re five feet apart because we’re not gay,” Toast said, very seriously, and Sykkuno must have looked lost and just a little bit afraid because he sighed exasperatedly. “It’s a meme. Go to sleep.”

He nodded. “Can we talk a little bit more?”

Toast looked at him, and Sykkuno was too dizzy from lack of sleep to properly categorize it. Because it looked different; he looked at him like he was trying to find something on his face. He didn’t even know what because Toast had never looked at him like that before. Was the request too weird? Was he making this even more awkward? Sykkuno held his breath and tightened his hold on the blanket, waiting.

But then, the moment passed and Toast relaxed his stance, eyes already glued back to his phone. He started talking about the difference of Facebook and Twitch as platforms of streaming, all the business talk. And then he talked about striking up some collabs with some streamers, trying out new games and all. He talked about Sykkuno’s habit of getting distracted with his chat when he was streaming, talked about Michael’s hilarious and worrying tendency of tazing Lily.

Sykkuno chuckled along and mumbled some sleepy replies at times. His eyes were drooping faster with Toast’s voice and warmth radiating from his body next to Sykkuno. This felt nice and wistful at the same time, mainly because he was reminded that it didn’t mean anything to Toast. He was just helping a friend, entertaining someone who was shy enough to just waddle in front of people’s doors and hoping that they realized he was there. To Sykkuno, this was a moment of reprieve from everything he had to hold himself back from.

Just sleeping here, with Toast by his side, surrounded by the softness of his blanket and the cadence of his voice. Something so simple that he would keep inside his memory for a long time.

* * *

Toast didn’t come home that night, and Sykkuno took his time smoking because his fingers were suddenly shaking. He had eaten, he slept too, but there was a restlessness in his chest that made him feel jittery and just—just so achingly sad. He didn’t even know why he would feel like that since this wasn’t the first time it happened. Toast went out with Janet earlier in the day, and he was staying the night. This wasn’t something new, and Sykkuno knew the drill by now.

It had been a few months since he fell asleep on Toast’s room, and he had done it several times per month that neither of them said anything about Sykkuno just going into Toast’s room and fell face first on his mattress. He had been told to bring his own blanket, though, and he swallowed the protest because he understood that it would be way too weird and impractical to share a one-person blanket. He should be thankful that Toast was kind enough to talk to him before he fell asleep, a habit that they developed after a few times Sykkuno requested it.

In a way, living in the same place as Toast did was both a blessing and a curse. On one hand, he could have his time together; eating, playing, sleeping, drinking and singing out of tune on their karaoke machine. He could have this moment of closeness, and he had to endure another batch of torture when he realized that he would know _all_ the time when he went out on a date with Janet, or when she visited the house. At times, Toast smiled at his phone and Sykkuno would furrow his head further into Toast’s blanket because he knew that it must be her.

When he stayed the night like this, Sykkuno would smoke a little and continue his schedule of the day. He would try to hang out with the others and chase the uneasiness he felt in his chest and stomach. If he endured this long enough, maybe he would get used to it.

He was dead wrong.

Sykkuno sucked on his cigarette urgently, like he couldn’t have enough time to inhale the smoke into his lungs. Toast had been keeping a pretty good job at keeping his habit at bay when he was in the house, and Sykkuno had cut it down to less number than he usually had in one sitting. But lately, he started getting knots in his stomach when Toast was away, the ones that made him anxious and curl up on the couch because it hurt like his stomach was cramping badly. Now, on top of that, his hands were shaking uncontrollably. He nearly dropped his cigarettes.

Unexpectedly, Brodin came to sit next to him. He took one look at the ashtray and wordlessly asked for the box of cigarette. He thought that he would take it away, but instead Brodin took one out and lighted it up. Sykkuno stared at the lawn with unfocused gaze and sucked in another breath of nicotine and smoke. His throat hurt, up to his right ear, a sign that he had been smoking too much. His family didn’t like this habit, and Sykkuno was afraid that his grandmother would be affected since she was old. So he always smoked away from their eyes, and they pretended like they didn’t see the ashtray and boxes of cigarettes on Sykkuno’s table. They did try to talk, understood and had tried to help with therapy when they found out that part of the reason was that he was stressed out enough to pick back this habit from his early college days when he was actually just trying it out. He made it into a coping mechanism, and a form of satisfaction to his muted suicidal tendencies because he still had a way to end himself even if it was a slow destruction.

With the way everything happened between Toast and him, he thought that he didn’t need the cigarettes to choke his will of living into a mere wisp. Gods, he had thought that he was strong enough to get over this. He was continuously proven wrong at every turn. Maybe this was the time to move out, he had lived here long enough, after all, and he had heard the talk of moving into a new house since this one had too many technical problems with too high a rent.

Sykkuno took another inhale, and coughed afterwards. His throat was itchy, he really needed to give it a rest. His chest felt constricted, like he couldn’t get enough air. He tried his hardest to pretend that it was from too much smoke instead of the thoughts of Toast.

Brodin took the half-burnt cigarette from his finger, and finished it himself. Sykkuno was left fiddling with his fingers to stop the shaking. After a moment, he said, “Is this about Toast?”

Sykkuno’s head whipped to him so fast that he was almost dizzy from it. It was a mistake because he knew that the truth was written all over his face. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words could come out. In the end, he let the question hung in the space between them.

Brodin took his silence as an answer. “The others don’t really pay any attention to it,” he said, and he sounded oddly reassuring. “They just think that it’s a normal admiration. You both are good friends, after all. I think it’s only Lily and I who are aware.”

There was a stone stuck in his throat, and Sykkuno belatedly realized that it was hot tears that had started to gather on the corner of his eyes. He didn’t dare to look at Brodin at all, lest he saw the pathetic longing in his eyes. “Aware about- about what?”

He felt a strong, warm hand taking his shaking fingers in a firm grasp. They were long and the arm was veiny, and Sykkuno felt despair when his head started making comparison to Toast’s hand. This was unbelievably dumb of him to keep hanging onto impossible hopes.

“Sykkuno,” Brodin started, and he didn’t sound pitying, he just sounded solemn and wistful. He didn’t know which one was worse. “Is Toast your soulmate?”

He didn’t know that he had answered, until a broken, softly whispered _yes_ was coming out of his mouth. The tears fell then, and he let them because he hadn’t cried in a long time, hadn’t let himself cry since the first time he met Toast and found out that even a prevalent, fated bond could also be unrequited.

Brodin held his hand through it, rubbing his thumb on the back of Sykkuno’s hand and he latched onto that anchoring touch. He yearned for another hand to touch him, another person to sit next to him in this confusing, painful time that he didn’t understand about. But that would be unfair for both Janet and Toast. Humans were granted the ability to shape their own fate, working around the circumstances and inevitable internal and external influences—this was the both of them making their own story and they had no responsibilities whatsoever in taking Sykkuno’s predicament into thoughts, one that they weren’t even aware about. And even if they were, it would still be unfair nonetheless. Because Janet had found Toast before Sykkuno did, he didn’t have the right to demand anything. Why was it so hard to accept that this was how things were supposed to be?

By the time the tears had stopped, Sykkuno was sniffling and unashamedly wiped his nose on his shoulder. He took out another cigarette and let Brodin held his hand as he exhaled a shaky breath full of smoke. “He doesn’t know. It’s not his fault, I just—I need more time than I thought to get over it.”

The taller man nodded. “It’s not anyone’s fault. It’s just the circumstances beyond your control.”

Yeah, that was right. Despite the fate tying his soul into another’s, there were also things that could go above and beyond that. Fate wasn’t set in stones, as it turned out.

“You’re not going to tell him?” Brodin let out a small sigh when Sykkuno shook his head. “It’s your decision, but maybe you can seek out some help. Because this is taking a toll on you, physically and mentally, it seems.”

He had heard about rejected soulmates. But since it wasn’t widely announced to the whole world, what he scoured from the internet were no more than some blogs, a handful of articles, some researches, and a bunch of fictions written about the subject. The researches said that there was a certain part of someone’s brain that clicked into a specific frequency with their soulmate, that some parts of their central command was intentionally incomplete so the other could settle into place and fill in the void. They could still function as usual without their soulmates, of course. But they would feel the chasm, acutely. It amplified the feeling of yearning, loss, intimacy to the whole body since feelings were just another translation of certain chemicals from the head, and someone’s soulmate also served as the balancing factor of those chemicals.

There were speculated side effects of being rejected or losing a soulmate. There was never definite information about them since the test subjects were only a handful, but he had read about losing sleep and focus, decrease of appetite and, in consequences, weight, shaking and difficulty of breathing, sudden fever, lethargy, and several other symptoms. He didn’t have the fever, and his appetite was working just fine this far, but he experienced nearly everything else. There were professionals who worked in the field of soulmates, and they could help with the process of severing the bond and getting the patients up on their feet without constantly feeling like they were imbalanced from deep within.

Severing the bond, the action of closing the connection either mentally or physically. The physical sense was still a fairly new thing; it involved the literal severing of the parts of the brain that had anything to do with added purposes of connecting with the soulmate. The majority of people were born without them, and Sykkuno had never felt so envious of them up until this second. The mental part was through multiple therapies and getting into his subconscious that he had closed the connection for good. They would still be given supplemental medicines to gradually dull the frequency and parts of his brain that were only there for soulmate bonds. Neither of them were a walk in the park, because the thought of being rejected by one’s soulmate was something as crushing as having one’s heart ripped out from its protective cage with bare hands; the hands of the very same person they put their hopes and faith into.

If an unrequited soul bond was a slow torture, losing a soulmate completely was a pure, unadulterated form of agony. There were reports of people who suddenly felt like they were crushed from within, a feeling of sadness and loss that knocked them off their feet. Even without knowing their soulmates, that feeling would still be present because the connection was suddenly gone and their brain was trying to cope up with the loss. It felt like dying a thousand times and over, but it was possible to recover from it. It was a one time, acute sense of pain. Unrequited soul bond lasted for their whole life.

Sykkuno heaved a sigh and nodded. “I’ll- I’ll try to look around for one,” he said, interrupted by hiccups between the words. “Thank you, Brodin. I’m so- sorry for making you worried.”

“We’re all worried because you keep smoking like a damn coal train,” he said, a small quirk of smile accompanying his sentence. “Scarra had asked me if it really was the behavior of new smoker.”

Oh, right, they didn’t know. He laughed a little wetly and finished the rest of his cigarette. Brodin stayed and patted his back softly, a reminder of the same thing Toast did when he found out that Sykkuno smoked, all those months ago. Gods, it felt so far away now.

“I think you should sleep,” Brodin said. “Come on, let’s get you to your room.”

Sykkuno’s voice was small and full of shame when he said, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

The man nodded in understanding, and quickly came to a decision. “Sleep in mine, I’m cool with it.”

He thought about the first time falling asleep in Toast’s room, listening to his stories and anecdotes, and feeling so safe and whole in the cocoon of Toast’s blanket and his encompassing warmth in the cold room. He thought that it would be near impossible to do that anymore without revealing just how much he craved the closeness now, when he had already experienced symptoms of being so close with his soulmate, and still didn’t get the proper click of frequency and care that should have come with finding one’s soulmate. But that was the keyword, wasn’t it, he thought bitterly. _He_ had found Toast; they didn’t find each other, and probably never would.

“Thank you,” he said, and followed Brodin after putting his ashtray on the table.

It felt different, sleeping next to someone else than Toast; to see taller, slimmer build rather than Toast’s large frame just inches away from him. Sykkuno was bundled up in his blankets, and closed his eyes when he started shivering despite the heat. _Oh_ , he thought, here came the fever. He laughed bitterly to himself. He wanted to be selfish and be mad at Toast for making him like this, but what good would it be? The man didn’t even know about this, and if Sykkuno had a say in it, he would never find out either. He couldn’t—he just couldn’t handle anymore rejection from Toast if he learned the truth.

He fell asleep restless and curling tight into himself because he was cold, he was too cold. Fever dreams flitting in his unconsciousness, sending snippets of Toast’s disgusted, disappointed face, of Toast turning his back on him, of Sykkuno finally crumbling and falling into the cliff he was so precariously standing on the edge of.

Faintly, he remembered waking up a few times, hazy and dizzy and aching everywhere, and felt a familiar hand on his burning skin. There were hushed voices, and something cool pressed to his forehead. There were instances where he would accidentally let out some noises, and the voices stopped; the bed dipped and someone was whispering things to him until he settled and fell into a deep slumber, breathing deep and feeling settled at last.

* * *

It was past noon when he woke up. He groaned as he rose from the bed, and the cooling pad fell from his forehead. He blinked at it. It wasn’t just some weird dream? He had an actual fever, it seemed. He sighed and took the used pad to dispose it later. There were a tablet of paracetamol and a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed, a note underneath in Brodin’s scrawl. _There’s lunch in the kitchen, eat._

He gulped down the medicine, and waddled out of the room to the direction of the kitchen. He heard voices from the rooms, but thankfully no one was out to stop him. He didn’t feel like talking much, or at all, honestly. His throat was still parched even after the glass of water, his skin felt sticky from sweat and he just wanted to rest because he was exhausted; physically, emotionally.

As luck would have it, Toast was in the kitchen. Sykkuno froze on the entrance, unsure of how to act appropriately. He didn’t forget his little breakdown from last night, knew that his sudden fever was exactly because of the same thing. He truly wasn’t sure if he could get his front up and running when he was this tired to pretend that everything was alright. That he wasn’t some stupid kid with stupid additional parts of his brain that kept trying to connect to a person who was blissfully oblivious of his unwanted yearning.

“You’re gonna topple over if you don’t sit,” Toast’s voice said, snapping him out of his thoughts and making the decision for him already. Like he did at nearly everything; like he unknowingly did with their bond.

Sykkuno nodded, sat on one of the chairs, slumping and pressing his forehead on the cool marble countertop. He groaned a little at the touch, maybe he needed to get another one of the cooling pad. He felt mostly fine, nothing a few more hours of sleep couldn’t fix. But the chasm inside his chest felt larger than ever now as his body was telling him that the search for the other end of the bond was finding dead ends, everywhere. His brain and body just didn’t understand why the bond wouldn’t connect when they were already in the close proximity of what they were searching for. Sykkuno wanted to scream at them that it was impossible to force someone to connect on an intimate level as soul bound without proper consent, especially if the other party might not be interested at all. He remembered the shaking hands when Toast was gone yesterday, and thought that yeah, he was right in that last assessment.

“You were fine yesterday,” Toast said, sliding a covered plate full of food. His tone was casual, but he was probing, goading Sykkuno into giving him the information he was aiming for. “What happened?”

He sighed, and ridiculously, earnestly wanted to cry. Maybe letting up the gate of the dam was an obvious mistake on his part, because it was harder to keep the tears in this time around. “I don’t know,” he whispered, and there must have been something in his voice because when he risked a glance at Toast, he looked alarm.

He relaxed his feature into something less severe, and dragged his chair closer to where Sykkuno was. “Alright,” he said. “Don’t die on us yet, it’ll be bad for the press.”

Sykkuno tried to smile at the joke, but it must have fell flat on his face because he suddenly felt like all of his energy had been zapped clean just from the short conversation. Toast looked at him, assessing, then said, “You feel okay to eat now?”

He didn’t think so. So he shook his head, swallowing around the painful lump in his throat and closing his eyes so Toast didn’t have to see the unshed tears in them. He felt weak, he felt sentimental and he wanted to hit himself because he didn’t need to be another case of pity party. Why couldn’t he ever do anything right? Just how weak his self-restrain was to be defeated so quickly by something like unrequited soul bond? Soulmates weren’t definite, and he could still have a chance with someone else, if he ever wanted to connect with people that way. He was creating more mess than necessary on this matter. Always the wimpy, scrawny, awkward kid who was too soft-hearted to ever do anything he was supposed to do.

“Have you taken the medicine yet?” Toast asked again, and something about it niggled on the back of Sykkuno’s mind. He couldn’t pinpoint it, however, so he just nodded. “You wanna go back to your room? You can take the food and eat them whenever.”

Despite everything, the thought of having to separate himself from Toast again made his stomach cramped terribly again. With shaking hands, he gripped the edge of the counter and said, “No, I- I don’t want to sleep again just yet. Weird dreams.”

“Because you don’t want to sleep alone?” Toast said, and it sent a ping to Sykkuno’s heart from how much he seemed to be able to read Sykkuno like an open book in most of the occasion. He just couldn’t read the desperation he felt regarding this whole soulmate problem.

“Yeah,” he said, ashamed to admit it.

But then Toast was pushing his chair even closer, and pressed their shoulders right next to each other. He was warm through the layers of clothes, and Sykkuno unconsciously sought out the source, leaning into Toast’s space without reserve. When he realized, he made to pull back and apologize for his behavior, but Toast put a hand around his jaw, and pushed Sykkuno to lay his head on Toast’s broad shoulder. There was a second when Sykkuno felt panic seized up his mind from the sensory and proximity overload, but his bond recognized the person next to him instantly and his body just went lax, letting out the tension bit by bit as Toast patted his arm.

“Will you eat if you sleep in my room after this?” He felt the rumble of the words more than he heard them, and he nodded weakly, pressing his cheek further into the plaid shirt Toast was wearing.

He ate slowly, Toast went away for a moment to get him water and his stomach cramped again. He stopped chewing and anxiously waited until Toast’s sides were pressed against him. The knots relaxed then, and he resumed eating in his snail pace. Toast looked at him and said, “Go see a doctor if it’s so bad.”

“I will,” he said, and didn’t tell him that they were thinking about a different kind of doctor. He’d have to search for a soul bond therapist. The symptoms were clearly bad enough and it could hinder his everyday life and his work if he kept this up. Maybe this was the right time to sever the bond, for both of their sakes.

“I can take you there tomorrow,” Toast offered, and Sykkuno choked a little on a piece of bacon.

“N-no, it’s alright, you don’t have to,” he said, aware that Toast was analyzing his every word. “I, uh, I can go by Uber. You have a schedule tomorrow, right?”

He looked like he wanted to insist, but in the end he decided not to push and nodded instead. Maybe he remembered that Sykkuno was still someone who was afraid to impose on someone else, and would feel nervous if he thought that he was inconveniencing Toast. “Right,” he said. “Finish your food.”

He didn’t finish it, in the end, already feeling nauseous and leaving more than half the plate full. Toast covered it again and put it in the fridge. He half-carried Sykkuno to his room, and frowned when Sykkuno sighed like he was in pain when he lay down on the mattress. He pulled the blankets up to his chin and settled next to him, like he always did when they slept together.

“I don’t know what happened,” he started, but he didn’t sound like he was chiding, didn’t seem like he was probing for information. He just sounded resigned, and Sykkuno didn’t understand why. “But it looks bad enough if you’re like this. Sleep, Sykkuno.”

He nodded, already feeling his eyelids drooping from the command. It felt like his brain took everything Toast said and recognized it as something that Sykkuno absolutely had to do in this state. Maybe because he felt untethered and his soulmate’s presence was guiding him through his lack of control over his mind and body. He daringly reached out a hand to grip the hem of Toast’s shirt, chest filled with hot flush of embarrassment and contentment from the contact. Toast let him.

He didn’t know how long he had fallen asleep, but when he woke up, Toast wasn’t there and Sykkuno heaved a deep breath because his lungs didn’t seem to work properly. He stumbled out of the bed, gripping the edge of it when he sprawled on the floor like a pathetic imitation of a spilt wine. He could still suck in a few short breaths but his lungs felt like they were pierced by spears and each time he heaved, the sharp edge cut the soft organs even further. He wanted to laugh, he wanted to blame his cigarettes, but he knew that it wasn’t that.

“Toast—“ he gulped, grunted when the pain lanced through his entire body, and tried again. He foregone his shame and called for him again because the pain was too much, this was something different, something new and Sykkuno’s body didn’t like the sensation of being in constant panic and pain. “T-Toast?” he called out, louder. Toast must have been out, either in the house or somewhere else. He couldn’t possibly hear him, and Sykkuno should have used his phone instead. But his phone was left in Brodin’s room and he got no energy to move from his current position.

Just as he was about to collapse from the pain and lack of air, the door was slammed open and Toast stormed through it, looking confused and as anxious as Sykkuno felt. He grabbed him roughly and pulled him up to the bed again. “What the fuck are you doing? You are sick, you can’t even walk right! You’re going to hit your head somewhere and we’ll have a new problem, you want that?”

The spears in his lungs slowly pulled themselves out one by one, as Sykkuno tried to take in as much air as he could now that Toast was within his peripheral. He bit his lip, feeling a little hurt because Toast was right. Sykkuno was nothing but a problem right now. “I’m sorry, I just—I was just panicking because I can’t- I can’t breathe.”

There was a deep frown on Toast’s forehead and Sykkuno wanted to flatten the tip of his fingers there to smooth it out. He kept his hands clenched by his sides. “Cut out the smoke,” he then said, “at least until you feel better. I told you to cut down the intake.”

He nodded, too boneless and aching to argue. “Okay,” he sniffled. “I’m sorry.”

It was as if all the anger bled out of Toast in the exhale that he let out. Like he was tired himself from all of this, from Sykkuno. “No, it’s okay,” he said, soft gravel of his voice settling in Sykkuno’s lungs to close over his wounds. “Jesus fuck, Sykkuno. I don’t know what the hell is happening with you. I’m taking you to a doctor tomorrow.”

He felt the panic climbed from his stomach, the cramp starting all over again. He couldn’t let Toast find out the real reason why he was sick. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him now. Not when he was fragile and vulnerable and selfish like this. “I can go by myself—“

“Everyone is worried,” Toast cut him off. His voice was still soft but there was a sharp edge to it now. Like he was one step away from snapping again, and this time he wouldn’t be as merciful in hurling his attacks. So Sykkuno just nodded and resigned himself to the mess he would have to face after the visit to the doctor. “Get some more sleep. I’ll wake you up for dinner later.”

Toast stood up and went for the door, and Sykkuno’s chest started hurting again. His hand moved before his head could catch up with it. But Toast was already moving back to the bed after he closed the door. He looked upset, cold. Sykkuno swallowed back the bile on the back of his throat. “I’m gonna be here. Sleep.”

He knew that talking to him would just be resulted in more fights and uncomfortable questions that Toast seemed to be excellent in finding from whatever telltale Sykkuno was broadcasting on his face. Toast knew the way he worked his mind, that was the reason why he kept asking the right questions that cut to Sykkuno’s pandering and his tendencies of going in circles. He tried to sleep, couldn’t help himself when he tugged on Toast’s shirt again and trying to keep down the pain in his stomach. This was the least he could do; he couldn’t keep being a liability to Toast.

“Sorry, Toast,” he whispered.

Toast let out a harsh sigh and lay down on the bed. “Stop saying sorry if you won’t tell me what you’re apologizing for.”

He didn’t have to; Toast would find out soon enough. Sykkuno gritted his teeth and redirected his tears to anger—at himself, this despairingly impossible soul bond, his weakness and inability to solve a problem without taking other people down with him in the murky water. Twenty-eight and still so laughably childish in handling his life; terribly selfish, messy and involving too much of repressing things instead of fixing them. One day he’d implode and there was no one to blame but his incompetency.

Cut down the smoke, Toast said with his understandable ignorance. Cut down the emotions, Sykkuno heard as he hardened his heart. His life, their lives, didn’t just revolve around his personal problems. They had responsibilities, jobs, contracts, people to deal with. It would do him good to completely stop this before it affected them even further. Just some nerves to numb, what was he being so sentimental about?

He let himself have one last moment of selfishness and pressed closer to Toast; inhaling his distinct scent and looping his arm around Toast’s as he hid his face on his own shoulder. Toast didn’t have to see more of this pathetic display. He felt the body went rigid, but he stubbornly refused to let go until Toast gradually loosened up and let out another sigh. A moment later, he felt Toast turning, jostling his head. A hand was on the back of his head, lifting and moving it so he could rest it on the side of Toast’s shoulder instead. Then, there was soft touch, fingers sneaking between strands to carefully caress his scalp.

This was something he allowed himself to take. One last moment before he lost this man, even as a friend. Just one moment of them side by side, of the shared body heat and gentle touches. Of confusion and unsaid words, the mutual agreement of not addressing the elephant in the room for the sake of keeping this fragility in the privacy of Toast’s room, hidden away beneath his soft blanket.

When Sykkuno fell asleep again, his fever dreams were replaced by the fall of the leaves. The warm hue of autumn, his scarf keeping him warm as he sat under the dying tree; waiting for winter to come and bury every feelings and secrets under the unforgiving blankness of the snow.

* * *

The car ride back to the house was tense and silent. Sykkuno felt like he could touch the air and come out bleeding from how sharp and encompassing it was. Toast had taken his words into action and brought Sykkuno to a doctor. Only, they went to one that Lily suggested instead. She had looked at them, and sighed and hugged Sykkuno. He was reminded of Brodin’s words and winced. They knew what would happen once they were done.

Toast didn’t suspect a thing up until they pulled into the parking space and read the sign of the clinic. His mouth opened a little, then he looked at Sykkuno like he was figuring the scattered pieces and putting them into place. He didn’t say anything, however, even when his face fell and Sykkuno’s skin crawled with the need of soothing whatever it was that made Toast looked like that. He wanted to touch Toast’s arm and reassure him that everything was alright. But he didn’t know if he could lie like that.

He was sitting painfully still and stiff as the doctor did the check ups and asked Sykkuno questions about his symptoms. The words tumbled out of his mouth as he described the nausea and loss of sleep, constant nightmares and stomach cramps, difficulty of breathing—yes, the doctor did say that he should cut off the cigarette intake—and the recent bouts of fever. He had headaches, but only sometimes and he just chalked it up to normal headaches. It turned out to be the part of his soul bond connection in his brain, the scan revealed. The doctor was worried because there was clearly signs of approaches and reactions from parts of his brain towards the connection and frequency to his soulmate.

“You have met them, correct?” the doctor said.

“A few years ago,” Sykkuno easily lied, because this man wasn’t Toast.

There was a small frown and the doctor jotted down some notes on his pad. “And they showed no reactions? Have you told them at all?”

He thought about the first time they met and smiled; sad, resigned. “No, they didn’t show any signs. And they already had someone else by that time. I didn’t think telling them would do us any good. They- they didn’t seem to recognize the bond.”

“It’s remarkable that the symptoms only showed up now,” the doctor said. “They usually start happening a few months after the first rejection, give or take one or two years at most. I’m surprise you haven’t sought out any doctor to sever the bond if it happened a few years ago.”

He heaved a deep breath, and looked down, closing his eyes and remembering each moment he shared with Toast. Then he forced himself to remember the smile on Toast’s lips, the affection and gentleness in his touch, the happiness on the line of his face when he was with Janet. This was for the better.

“I’ve been thinking about—“ he stumbled, gritting his teeth when he realized that his mind knew what he was trying to do and trying its hardest to refuse. It was useless to hang onto anymore of false hopes now. The symptoms had been affecting his body more than he could handle. “About severing the bond. Soon, I think. I don’t know about the procedure, though.”

The doctor nodded, and Sykkuno looked at Toast. His breath got caught on his throat when he saw how crestfallen the man looked. He fought with his whole body to remain in place, instead of taking Toast into his arms and kissing the top of his head. He must have pitied Sykkuno, must have thought that he truly was pathetic if he was rejected by his own soulmate. Toast was a good friend, after all. Of course he would worry about this.

The doctor recommended the mental severing, since the physical operation would be more expensive and still on early stages of experiment, even if the process was faster. If Sykkuno was down with it, he could try a program and he could be in line for a free operation, but it’d take longer time to be accepted into it. He chose the first one since he thought it would be more comfortable for him and his job, it was also the first choice any doctor would give. The cons would be the long process, and the constant need of medications for the initial durations of therapy before settling down, and spiking up again the moment the severing process was done. Afterwards, he would still feel the absence, but it wouldn’t affect his body anymore.

“Like a phantom limb,” the doctor said.

“A phantom limb,” he echoed dully. “That’s appropriate I think.” The loss of one appendage that could make his life easier, but also wouldn’t be detrimental to his overall function if it were to be cut off. He could work with that. He could be in crutches for a long time, but it was better than letting the infection fester and the wound rot. Just like the fallen leaves in autumn, except less poetic, less beautiful and wistful. Just a straight shot of pain and long lasting hangover.

The doctor gave him prescriptions to help with the symptoms. He was due for another checkup in a week, and a session with a recommended soul bond therapist in two months. He paid for the services and medicines, swinging the bag of pills and strips of tablets a little on his hand as they walked back to the car. Neither of them said anything, up until they were halfway to the house.

He didn’t know what Toast was thinking, but he was pretty sure that he did a good job of covering up his story. He could come out clean with the doctor and the therapist later on. But right now, he had to stick to his cover. If anything, the doctor did say that close contact with people might help. So it could be his reasoning if Toast started hitting him on his weakest places. He wouldn’t be completely lying either; having Brodin close _did_ help, even marginally.

He didn’t think that Toast would be callous enough to push him into uncomfortable situations about this particular subject. That was—until Toast suddenly took a sharp turn and parked the car on IKEA, of all places. The parking lot was almost barren except for four other cars and two bikes. His heart started to pound when Toast leaned back on the seat, closing his eyes and looking so terribly exhausted as if he was the one who was losing sleep because his supposed bonded had rejected him.

“Toast?” he tried, careful and small. He shut his mouth and pressed himself closer to the door when Toast put up a hand, didn’t open his eyes. He needed a moment, Sykkuno read. So he waited, even when Toast clenched his fists and release them sporadically; even when he grabbed the steering wheel and rested his head on it. He couldn’t take the sight anymore, didn’t know why Toast felt this way—didn’t even know what he was feeling of. Hesitantly, he reached out to put a palm on Toast’s back, rubbing the span of it. Toast didn’t say anything, but he didn’t push him away either, so he kept doing it until the man straightened up.

Sykkuno pulled back his hand and felt ridiculously small, pressed up against the car door like this. Toast was a few inches shorter than him, and Sykkuno knew that despite his slender build, they generally had the same size. He could quite literally bundle Toast up in his arms, and yet he felt like he was nothing but a ball of lies and overdramatic hurts over something that could be cut down in a year, give or take.

Toast’s eyes were sharp when he turned to Sykkuno. There was an air of fragility and faint disbelief in the lines of his pursed mouth, however. _Here comes the interrogation_ , Sykkuno thought weakly, and tried his best to not look like he was a criminal caught red handed. He was getting better at this; he did keep this from Toast all this time, right? He could do it one more time.

“You have a soulmate,” Toast started, slow in his drawl, like he was filing away what information he had accumulated and put them all on the table to connect the dots. Sykkuno desperately hoped he missed a puzzle and came to a wrong conclusion. Any inches off the target was better, even if the arrow was too close for his comfort.

“I do,” he said.

Toast nodded. “When did you meet them?”

He frowned, not understanding the question. “What- what do you mean when, Toast? You were there when I talked to the doctor, you were- you were there.”

“Then tell me again,” he cut off. There was no inflection, his face bellying any emotion. It planted a seed of fear inside Sykkuno, a tendril of doubt. “When, Sykkuno?”

Maybe he wasn’t too surprised that Toast would do this. Though he wanted to deny him and launched his own questions, wanted to stand his ground and let Toast be on the spot for a change, Sykkuno didn’t think that the fight would pass over some apologies. Something about Toast made him feel like this was important for him to know. And like he always did, Sykkuno caved in.

“A few years back when I still worked as software developer,” he said, and forcing himself to believe it so Toast wouldn’t detect any lies. He did have someone he liked back then, the first man he had ever had feelings for. It didn’t last long, and Sykkuno had spent time thinking about it. He didn’t think he was more interested in men than he was with women, but that experience taught him that possibilities would always be open.

“How do you know they’re your soulmate?”

“The click of frequency, Toast,” he said, thinking back to the memory of their first in-person meeting. “Like- like tuning a dial on the radio for so long, and finally finding the right station to settle on? I just felt happy, warm, _safe_ even if I met them just then. It’s a physical thing as much as emotional.”

“Did they know?” Toast ask, and Sykkuno wanted to believe that he did it just to be cruel. Why else would he? He might believe that Sykkuno was just too afraid to tell them anything, ending up with his current situation. “How can they reject you if they didn’t even know about it in the first place?”

Sykkuno clenched his jaw and shouldered through the knots in his chest and stomach. Toast’s words were harsh, but it was the accuracy of what he said that bothered him the most. Because that was the million dollars’ question, wasn’t it? If the other party wasn’t even aware, how could it be called a rejection? He was essentially saying that it was Sykkuno’s fault that he got his heart broken. And he loathed to admit that he was right about it—right about most of the things Sykkuno was too afraid to acknowledge.

“It’s unrequited, Toast,” he said through despair and the build of anger, his voice going down a few notches. “You’re right. It wasn’t a rejection if they didn’t know, if we weren’t on equal footings. But you don’t need them to explicitly say it to understand that it won’t go anywhere.”

“How can you be so sure about it?” Toast continued. He had taken his defensive stance from the change in Sykkuno’s demeanor. “You didn’t say anything, did you, Sykkuno? You didn’t even do anything about it. Knowing you, you probably just tried to settle as someone close enough without actually resolving the issue.”

Sykkuno felt like he had been physically slapped, throat working around his words as he tried valiantly to not lash out. “Yes! I didn’t!” he snapped, reigning in expletives and hurtful words. He felt some of them still slipped through. “How could I, Toast? Any possibilities were cut down since the first time we met. He was with someone else, he didn’t look any different when we first met—he, he didn’t realize that he was my other half and how can I blame that? How could I try _anything_ when he was so happy with his significant other? Soulmates don’t mean _shit_ when someone has chosen their own path, Toast.”

His breath came out in staccato, fingers gripping tight around the handle of the door as if he was ready to bolt anytime soon. He might, if this stifling air of anger and resentment that he didn’t know where it was rooted from stayed any longer between them. Toast clenched his jaw, and there was a glint in his eyes as Sykkuno realized he had accidentally referred his soulmate as a male. That was dangerous, it would narrow down the search.

“Jesus, Sykkuno,” Toast let out a harsh growl, and he looked terrible in anger. The ugly tendrils of emotions framing his face so cold and sharp. “I’m not trying to attack you. Calm the fuck down. I’m trying to help.”

He laughed. That was rich coming out of Toast’s mouth when he was the actual source of Sykkuno’s problems. But that wasn’t true, was it? Like Toast said, how could someone be held accountable of a crime they weren’t even aware of? It had always been Sykkuno all along.

“Help with what exactly?” he said, words dripping with something he intended to hurt. “You gonna hunt him down? Tell him that I’m basically a useless vegetable unless we’re close by? You’re going to force him to love someone he doesn’t, Toast? Is that your idea of _help_?”

There was a loud bang as Toast’s fist met the window behind him. Sykkuno jumped a little but kept the anger in his veins. It was better than breaking down and letting out the truth out in the open air. He could handle anger, mostly because he always kept it in, forcefully shoving it down and sanding the edges with blind positivity. They both were breathing hard from their own emotions. Sykkuno felt the constriction in his chest getting tighter and tighter, the knots in his stomach nearly making him keel over from anxiety and pain. He would finish this, he would push through and Toast could just _shut the hell up_.

“Is _this_ your idea of helping yourself, then? Lashing out and pushing people away so they wouldn’t be able to help you? Do you weep and blame people afterward for not offering a hand when you’re too far up your ass to ever realize how stubborn you are?” Toast snapped, and suddenly the car was far too small, far too big as Sykkuno’s heart ache from the wrath his soulmate directed at him without reserve. “Fuck you, Sykkuno. You keep showing up at people’s faces and trying to reach out for them, but God fucking forbids if they ever reach back. Just admit that you’re a damn coward who thinks that you can be safe in the cocoon of your loneliness, and sulking because of it altogether. You stubborn piece of shit, think that you’re all high and mighty by being so kind and refusing people’s help, huh? What, you think you’re doing us a favor by not inconveniencing us? Guess what, dipshit, you’re doing exactly that by wallowing in your pathetic misery and taking down the others with you. We don’t even know what to do about you!”

“Fine!” he shouted back, feeling the tears hot and burning on his lids. “Don’t do anything about it! I’ll get out of the house and you don’t need to see this coward anymore. You think you know everything about me, huh, Toast? So high up on your horses and think that you can barrel through people’s boundaries as you wish. You don’t know anything!”

“I don’t!” Toast replied. He gritted his teeth when the tears started falling from Sykkuno’s eyes, like he was guilty, like he was disgusted. “That’s the problem with you! Have you ever considered that other people wanted to be _your_ friends too, Sykkuno? Maybe stop with all your messiah bullshit and think that there are people who want to know about you, who _care_ about your well-being. _I’m_ your friend too! I’ll find that man if I have to, I don’t give a shit.”

Sykkuno laughed then, high and loud in his hysteria. “He’s married, Toast,” he said, voice breaking between the words because it was true. That man was engaged not too long after their awkward flirting, and Sykkuno wondered if he reciprocated because he was bored. He also had heard the talk of Toast thinking of engagement since his family had known of Janet, and really it was just a step away at this point. “He’s happy, and he’s not responsible for how I feel, or what’s going to happen to me. Just—just let it go. I’ll be severing the bond either way, why should we fight over something useless?”

Toast glared at him. “It’s clearly not useless when it’s too fucking obvious you’re still so hung up on that bastard,” he said, and Sykkuno truly wanted to laugh again because he was essentially insulting himself. “You said that he didn’t realize. Maybe his side of the bond was late in realizing that, you can still turn it around.”

“What, and ruin a woman’s perfectly happy life? He might not even be happy with me, regardless the soul bond and all. It’s his life, Toast. He deserves to live it however he wants, choose whoever he loves. Just because my side of the bond is open, doesn’t mean that he has to complete it.” He felt like Toast could almost tell that he wasn’t talking about this hypothetical man, like he could read between the lines and find out that it was him that Sykkuno was talking about all along. “It’s my fault, I- I’m too forceful and too hopeful on this sketchy subject. It’s my fault, Toast, it’s—it’s my fault.”

Toast let out a frustrated sigh and rubbed his palm over his face. “If you really are accepting about this, why wait this long then?”

He smiled; bitter, almost heartbreakingly sad as his tears fell anew. “You don’t know how it feels, Toast. To find _them_ after so long being alone and empty. To feel the end of the search, only to see the complete lack of recognition and reactions; a radio silence on the other line. He didn’t even twitch when we touched for the first time, didn’t look at me any different, didn’t seem like he felt whole and grounded in my presence. I didn’t say anything because I’m not blind. He was already with someone else, I told you. That would just be cruel.”

He sniffled and took the offered box of tissue from Toast with a more genuine smile. He wiped his face free from tears and snot roughly, feeling a little bit settled from the pain on sensitive skin. His head was pounding, but the knots and constriction had loosened up a little once his mind realized that Toast’s anger had ebbed away. He looked down at the ball of ruined tissues and sighed.

“I can’t help the affection, the hope, the urge to stay close,” he said. “It’s literally a part of me to yearn for them. You don’t- you don’t know how it feels like.”

“I do, actually,” Toast said, cold and just the slightest bit of vulnerable. He didn’t elaborate when Sykkuno looked at him mouth agape in surprise.

“W-what? What do you mean?” he asked, because it could either mean that Toast could feel the bond albeit unknowingly, or he—he really wasn’t Sykkuno’s soulmate.

“Get out of the car,” Toast said in lieu of answer. “We’re here, might as well buy some shits.”

“What?” Sykkuno repeated, getting whiplash from the sudden turn of conversation.

“If you want to stay in the car that’s fine too,” Toast said impatiently.

Sykkuno scrambled on his seat, putting the tissue box back and his used tissue on the small bin Toast had in his car. “I look like a mess, Toast.”

Toast was halfway opening his door when he turned to give Sykkuno a flat look. “It’s IKEA, no one will give a shit even if you come in with a gun and bloody.”

It startled a laugh out of him, the ridiculousness of this situation. He took Toast’s words and believed it, like he always did and got out of the car as well. No one paid any attention to them, and Toast bought a throw blanket along with a fake plant. They spent a long time just going around, trying to pronounce the name of the furniture. It eased up the tension on their shoulders, even if Sykkuno knew the fight cut pretty deep. They both didn’t apologize, didn’t think they could with the state of their ego bruised and their fragility poked and prodded with harsh words and accusation. Maybe… maybe later when they lay side by side, voices hushed and blankets covering their vulnerability.

Toast ordered some food and they ate in the car, attentively trading stories and steering away from the subject of soulmates. Sykkuno felt a little bit better by the end of it, even if he didn’t finish his food. It seemed that the loss of appetite had finally settled in. He was just thankful he could stomach some instead of throwing up. The doctor had given him something for the appetite too, saying that Sykkuno had shown signs of it when he said that he could still eat but not in his usual portion.

“How did it go?” Lily asked, hugging him tight when they were home.

Sykkuno wiggled the bag of medicines and quirked up a stale smile. “It’s going okay.”

“He’s in for a therapy session,” Toast added, and he looked stubborn again. “He’s severing the bond.”

“Oh,” Lily breathed out, glances ping-ponging between Toast and Sykkuno. “That’s… yeah.”

“Toast,” Sykkuno sighed. His headache had come back and he gave Toast a pleading look. The man just rolled his eyes and muttered _whatever_ under his breath, flopping down on the couch and turning on the TV. “I’m gonna be okay,” he said to Lily, smile a little bit tight this time. “It’s okay,” he repeated, like he was trying to believe it too.

The others didn’t question him. Apparently, they had the talk from Lily. She told them that he had a problem with his soul bond, and that he preferred to not be bombarded about it. They looked like they wanted to ask, but soulmates had always been a touchy subject to those who had a problem with the bond. So they reigned in themselves and Sykkuno couldn’t be more thankful for it.

The throw blanket was draped over Toast’s chair, and the fake plant on the top of the table along with his utilities for streaming. Toast and Brodin had made an arrangement to keep Sykkuno engaged and be in physical touch for most of the time, whenever it was possible. He didn’t know when they had the talk, and what they were talking about in specific. But Brodin didn’t say anything, and he knew that asking to Toast would be futile. They would fight again instead, and he was thoroughly exhausted just from one of it. Let the water rise up high and drown him, it was a better alternative than be constantly in pain and anger.

“Toast?” he asked when he was about to sleep. Toast was scrolling through his feeds, a tab of email on his computer screen. He was taking a break, and had sat close next to Sykkuno on the bed. He had taken his medicines, ate some food, and Brodin gave him a cooling pad just to make sure.

Toast hummed, distracted by something. He was typing in quick succession and Sykkuno very carefully didn’t think about whom he must be texting right now. It could be anyone else, could be family or friends. He took some moment to get the words out, but chickened out in the end. Toast was right, after all, he really was just a pretentious coward.

“Don’t actually try to find him,” he said instead. “I don’t wanna be a homewrecker.”

That got him a laugh, Toast’s eyes looking at him like he was considering doing exactly that just to see the hilarity that would ensue. “Yeah, sure. Such a shame, though. You can dress up like the typical homewrecker, we can get you a wig.”

He chuckled along and moved his head closer to where Toast’s thighs were. Toast’s hand automatically went down to card through his hair, the motion almost practiced. He was used to this from the nights he slept with Toast. Maybe he had thought that Sykkuno was just a very physical and affectionate person at first, but now that he knew a sliver of the actual reasoning, Toast seemed to be in the mindset that human touches were absolutely necessary to keep Sykkuno’s pain at bay. He didn’t need to know that it was only his that could calm the roiling pain.

“You can try it,” he said. “You’ll look good in a dress, I think. You have nice legs and, um, behind.”

Toast raised an eyebrow at that. “Ass,” he corrected. “It’s ass, butt cheeks, buttocks, say it with me.”

“Ass, butt cheeks, buttocks,” Sykkuno indulged him because it would be alright now. He had decided to let this go, hadn’t he? So just—let him have this. When the embers of his connection was still alive, the slow thrum of his soul pulling him closer still to wherever Toast’s breath was.

“Good,” Toast nodded, proud and laughing a little at his phone. “Use it to insult people next time.”

“We’re starting off easy?” he asked, tracing the pattern of Toast’s pants and feeling the soft lull of sleep beneath his skin. He was warm, he felt nice, he felt like Toast was getting further and further away from him.

“Baby steps,” Toast said. “You’re going to be cursing up a storm in no time. Your chat will be scandalized; everyone will be scandalized. I can’t wait.”

“Mm,” he nodded along, already closing his eyes. “They’ll love it.”

“Damn right they will,” the older man laughed. “I knew you’re a cunning little bitch under that soft baby boy aesthetic, Sykkuno.”

“I do feel very soft right now,” he said. He snuggled into Toast’s blanket because he let him have it. He used Sykkuno’s blanket instead. This was all very weird and incredibly indulging of Toast. Like Sykkuno was going to die or something. Parts of him would, so it was fair enough he supposed.

“Yeah,” Toast said, “you are.”

There was the same vulnerable edge to his voice, just like when he said that he did understand how Sykkuno felt. He couldn’t get that secret out of Toast’s lungs even in his death, so he didn’t try. He hoped that Toast didn’t have to go through what he did; it was awful.

He fell asleep with minimal headache, he breathed fine with Toast nearby, the knots in his stomach was no longer there. The hand on his hair was gentle and he would inevitably lose it came his bond severing. It was okay, he had to believe it. There were no fever dreams, and Toast’s snippets of voice notes for Janet was sweet and heartbreaking. He was okay with that too.

Why mourn something he never had in the first place?

* * *

The medicines helped a lot. He could breathe easier even when Toast wasn’t there, the knots in his stomach hurt less, and he went along with whatever crazy schemes Brodin had for the videos. That man was a sadistic at heart, a psychopath. Sykkuno found a smoking buddy, and had regressed his intake of cigarettes. He only smoked whenever Brodin had the time to accompany him. Between their schedules and Brodin editing the videos, they had little time and Toast always had this little quirk on his lips whenever Sykkuno refrained from taking the cigarettes out. He thought that it was incredibly pathetic of him to feel pleased from the silent acknowledgement, that his whole body and mind felt content from the smallest bits of contact with the other half of his soul.

Sykkuno learned how to play guitar, and he was terrible at it. His progress was slow, but he could hum the songs he liked accompanied by the instrument now. He listened to a lot of Shawn James’ songs, liking his voice and a lot of his lyrics. He found the songs he made for a game, and practiced on the chord almost everyday. He couldn’t find anything relatable with his own story in those particular songs, but he liked them anyway. The voice was gravelly and smooth at the same time, a melodious timbre that made him sit and listen in silence because the emotions were bared so raw. The story behind the songs was pretty sad, but the man’s voice when he sung them made him ache.

It felt good, to feel the ache from an external source instead of his inner turmoil. He went to the doctor by himself the second time around, and told him the actual situation. The doctor chided him since fabricating his background wouldn’t help the assessment, but he was glad that Sykkuno had decided to be honest. He had made arrangement with the therapist, and gave the contacts to him. The medicines kept coming, but the actual prescriptions to numb parts of his brain would come after he had legitimate agreement with the therapist.

This was—this was another step closer to freeing this burden off their shoulders. He sat on the passenger seat of the Uber, and rubbed on his chest to chase the pain away. Soon enough, he wouldn’t have it anymore, or any of the ache his bond caused him. He would unconsciously remember the feelings, the echo of his phantom limb. But severing the bond was just the easy part. The real question he had to ask himself was whether he would be able to move on from Toast after so long longing for him. Maybe it’d feel like an old crush back in high school, amplified by hormones of teenage years. Sometimes he couldn’t even be sure if the feelings were truly his, or something his head had conjured.

Toast wanted to accompany him to the therapist, he said. But Sykkuno refused; he didn’t think that it would be a good thing for everyone. It really was okay, he reassured the man. Maybe it would be funny if Toast was there and he found out that the soulmate had been him all along. How would he react, what would he feel, Sykkuno wondered? Upset, dumbfounded, disgusted, betrayed—would he be sad?

He wouldn’t, Sykkuno thought and smiled as he looked out of the window. The city was bustling as always, some cafés he had visited, the children running around carrying their backpack. It would be the time school was over, he supposed. One of the traffic light was broken and he saw some repairmen were arguing over something he couldn’t hear in the enclosed space of this tin box, listening to the soft rumble of the machine. There were so few trees in the middle of the city, but they passed some parks and he had seen the green hue slowly bleeding over to warm brown, yellowish color. This was a season for warm scarfs and jackets, of drinking tea and muttering about the humidity in the air. He liked this season, mainly because there were a lot of new foods and beverages appearing on every restaurant. Yvonne liked it too, because she got to have fall specials and a lot of discounts on Starbucks.

The city went about its business, the season changed inevitably. Even as Sykkuno gulped down pills and tablets to ease the pain of his incomplete bond, life wouldn’t change. His would, but it was such a small speck in the grand scenario. This wouldn’t affect anyone but himself; his friends would worry, because they cared as Toast had screamed at him back in the parking lot of IKEA, but they would move on eventually. Because Sykkuno would, he _had_ to.

A year from now, after his connection was completely dead, leaving statics of a nonexistent radio station, he would see the fall again and rub on his chest to feel the ghost touch of his phantom pain.

Toast might still be with Janet then. Sykkuno could try to reconnect to the man he used as a scapegoat to hide the truth from Toast’s seeking eyes, treat him something as a form of apology. He probably would move out of the house since he wasn’t officially part of the management, go to Las Vegas maybe. The rent was cheaper there, living expenses too. L.A was just crazy; a crazy city with crazy things happening in it. But even then, the world still went around after all. So it would be okay.

_So take me on. I’ll be gone, in a day or two_ , he remembered another song he discovered in his video jumping journey on YouTube. It was fitting, in the version of the game. The original song took on some sexual touch to it, but that wasn’t what Sykkuno was looking for. Not now; he wasn’t that cruel. Just the simple touch of shoulder to shoulder, the warmth of Toast’s blanket, the flutter of his eyelashes when he smiled, the gentleness of his fingers as he ran them through Sykkuno’s hair. Those were enough. He was going away, and he would be okay.

Maybe someday he would tell him. Far in the future, where the uncertainty lay. Maybe they weren’t even friends by then. He wouldn’t know. But he could still do it, if he was brave enough. He didn’t think he would ever be. Toast could read him like a book on most of things, after all; Sykkuno really was too comfortable in his cocoon, too afraid when other people reached out because he was at loss of how he should react. The fear that they wouldn’t find something worthy of keeping in friendship, the anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach that they would leave either way and he would be left as a mess of liquid in his broken cocoon before he could ever bloom into a butterfly.

He could never, he thought—bloom. He couldn’t find enough bravery and reasons to come emerge as something different, even if it would be better. He would rot and die inside his cocoon, eaten away by the cycle of nature. Just like the falling leaves in autumn.

_Bury my heart in a willow tree_. He closed his eyes and leaned against the window, and allowed a moment to remember Toast, everything about him. This was all too melodramatic and sentimental, even for Sykkuno. Alas, this was what he had. A shattered heart, falling between the roots of the willow tree. He could never be born anew, but at the very least something else could grow from his decay.

“You seem to be feeling better these days,” Brodin said, playing with the lighter with a hand that wasn’t holding the cigarette. It had been his fourth visit to the doctor.

Sykkuno smiled and pressed the stub to the ashtray. “I’m really not,” he said, and it hurt less now even if his entire body and mind revolted against the thought of shutting off his bond.

Brodin’s fingers were long and spindly, his voice as soft as Toast’s with a different quality to it. Sykkuno listened to him talking and wished that he could fall for someone like Brodin instead; wished that he didn’t have the bond so he could love freely without this whole mess hanging on the top of his head. He understood why people with soulmates sometimes still experienced rejection and unrequited feelings. At times, instead of something that they could welcome like a breath they didn’t know was stolen from their lungs, it could feel like a spear to the chest instead. A restriction of affection, the pressure of finding the one and the expectation to be with the one. He wouldn’t wish that for Toast.

He still didn’t know what Toast meant that day. But he could at least try to believe in his happiness right now, that whether or not Toast knew about the bond, if Toast wasn’t his soulmate and was instead another’s, if he was rejected as well—he seemed to have shaken himself free from the shackles and Sykkuno wasn’t about to put another one on him. Was this love, he wondered, or was this just his bond talking?

Sykkuno sung to Brodin, only daring to let out his voice in this room where he could freely stumble on his chord and tones and still be able to continue because for all of his chaotic tendencies, Brodin’s presence could also be calming; a reassurance in his towering height, soft hair, and manic energy beneath the serene face. His voice wasn’t trained, and he rarely sung, but he liked the song enough.

_Haunted by your smiles, the mask keeps getting heavier_.

Sykkuno sat carefully on Brodin’s lap, both hands on his shoulders as he smiled with something a little too close to sadness. The guitar was forgotten on the chair. Brodin’s hands were warm on his hip, on his back. “Is this okay?” he asked, and the man nodded. So Sykkuno kissed him softly.

There was no love. This was just another touch, another way of trying out things beyond the consuming need of being with Toast. Sykkuno could trust this to Brodin, knowing that nothing would change except the knowledge of how his lips were chapped because he forgot to put on some lip balm, the taste of him, the understanding in the slide of his lips as Sykkuno’s chest started thrumming. A small reminder that this wasn’t who he wanted, but he ignored it because Brodin wasn’t a replacement.

This was something new that he was allowed to find out. This was something he could try further the moment he freed both Toast and himself. Maybe not with Brodin, maybe not with anyone else he would want to keep inside his heart. Just some touches to remember. One day Sykkuno could look back and realized how stuck up and selfish he was in his chase for a soulmate that he didn’t stop to consider the feelings and the conditions of the other person. He could grow up from blaming and internalizing his pain, to actually letting go. Because soulmates really didn’t mean shits once someone has chosen their own path.

There were soft sounds coming out of his lips, and he wondered if he deserved this. But Brodin kept him close when their lips were separated, and he thought that Toast had seen more of him than he could. There were people who were willing to grasp his outstretched hand and didn’t mind him fumbling his way into their lives. They were adults, he thought. Sometimes it was okay if some kisses didn’t matter in the emotional sense. It was okay if it didn’t mean more.

“Should we sleep?” he asked, voice mere whispers and he inhaled the warm breath hitting his lips.

“Maybe,” Brodin smiled, and kissed him again.

Toast touched the purpling mark on Sykkuno’s neck, and he closed his eyes from the small point of connection. They were closer than the previous nights and he didn’t know if what he felt right now was contentment or relieve. Brodin was a gentle lover in bed, and he made sure to keep Sykkuno close lest he started freaking out and apologizing until the dawn came. It didn’t have to mean anything, and it was okay that way too.

“You’re really intent on forgetting that man,” he said, and Sykkuno wanted to tell him that this wasn’t about that. He didn’t think Toast could understand without telling him the whole context.

_One step forward, two steps back_.

“I’ve had enough time fighting with myself,” he said instead. “It’s been long overdue that I let this go.”

Sykkuno’s head was on his shoulder, he could lean forward and maybe Toast would let it. He didn’t.

_There’s a noose ‘round my neck_.

He could talk with Janet and Toast in the same room without gasping for breath. His fingers rarely shook anymore. He waddled into Toast’s room like he lived there, and Lily was worried. He was worried, too. Maybe he would be done with his bond, and fell wholeheartedly for Toast instead. Out of the burning bridge, into the purgatory. There were risks, of forgetting to breathe, of having knots in his stomach, of losing sleep and having his head filled with thoughts of Toast—all by himself, all by a heart free of the soul bond.

_And the further I get, it’s harder and harder to breathe._

One of Toast’s hands draped over his hip, fingers splaying above the blanket. Brodin had gripped there tight at the end, leaving smattering of bruises in the shape of his palm. Sykkuno had never felt more relieved when he could differentiate the feeling of someone else inside of him, and the wishes for Toast to be the one to hold him instead. No one deserved to be treated like a shadow of another.

_Can I find a way to cut the rope?_

In the end, severing the bond really wasn’t the end. He had to cut off Toast too; going back to a thought more than two years ago, of staying away. Ryan had contacted him, asking if he wanted to room together since Sykkuno mentioned to him of finding someplace in Vegas. It would be okay, and he didn’t have to worry about Toast getting another clue of Sykkuno’s deliberate decision of getting away. They would move out together, just to different places—the way they did in their lives.

“Will you miss him?”

Sykkuno thought about it. Toast wasn’t just a fantasy he churned out of his soulmate-addled brain. He was a real person with numerous personalities in his arsenal, the abilities to sweep him off his feet regardless everything. The worries and fears he voiced out in the darkness of the room, under the bright lights when they sat on the bed; the flaws and times when Toast was unbearable, the roughness and sharpness of his emotions. This was a dear friend, someone Sykkuno wished for a happier life, a gentler future for.

“With all of my heart,” he said. “But I’ll learn how to live without missing him in every heartbeat. We all learned to live and work with what we have left. We have to.”

Toast’s finger stayed there, warm on Sykkuno’s neck. It was seven in the morning, and the noises of the house occupants were muted through the door. Lights filtered through the blinds and they didn’t reach them. But even in the dim light and the silence of the room, Toast was still as lovely and unattainable as he remembered from the first time they met.

“I’ll miss you,” Toast said, and there was no teasing, no backtracking the words that had been let out in the open air.

Sykkuno stilled for a moment, before he smiled; a little sad, a bit more heartbroken. Toast had known of his intention of moving out to Vegas. But something in his voice told him that it wasn’t about that. He put a hand over Toast’s chest, feeling the beat of his heart and the warmth of his skin through his thin shirt. He didn’t reply to what Toast said, and he didn’t seem to expect anything from Sykkuno either.

Sleep came too long after that. But the time spent in silence, in Toast’s arms, wasn’t something Sykkuno resented. He hummed low, a song that he couldn’t completely relate to. But it was a good song, and maybe some parts of it reverberated through his ribs, gently enveloping his heart. What Toast said, about telling the truth to his supposed soulmate, that he could still turn this around, Sykkuno had wanted nothing but to do just that; to see if he could still have Toast, to complete the bond, to have an answering call from the other line.

_When does it get quiet? Time was supposed to extinguish the desire_.

Even now, when he had discarded all possibilities but letting go, he still wanted it with an ache so acute in his chest. Even the possibilities of starting anew, of loving Toast in a different light, he wanted to grasped them in his palms. A quiet kind of love that he would keep safe on the space between the second and third rib, so Toast didn’t have to be weighed down by it. It would take him longer than a year to completely be able to breathe without shadows of yearning for Toast’s breath replacing the air in his lungs. It would take him even longer to get used to the phantom limb.

_But the embers won’t snuff out_.

Toast fell asleep first. They were still so close, and Sykkuno gave in to the ache as he traced the line from his forehead, the corner of his eyes, the bridge of his nose. He ghosted his fingers over the slightly opened lips, and let another thrum of pain spread in his chest. He caressed his cheek instead, and thought that it must have felt nice to wake up like this each morning, and feeling settled in the certainty of Toast’s answering affection.

_Can I leave it all behind?_

A fever dream, a flit of what-ifs that could never see the light of the day once it ended. And this feverish ache of longing would be gone soon. He closed his eyes and kept his tears inside. There was no more place for that in this room, in the early morning as they took their time away from the exhausting spotlight.

“I’ll miss you, too,” he whispered, and broke his heart for the last time as he let go.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> i honestly feel embarrased putting toastkkuno tag on because there aren't much of their moments here. but eh. i feel like this is even more muted than my first [toastkkuno fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131860/chapters/71516490). i was tired, physically and emotionally when i wrote this last night. hopefully, i feel a little brighter when i come around for the final chapter, don't count on me though.
> 
> thank you so much for reading, and keeping this tag alive. take care, okay? i hope you'll be alright. i'll see you later.
> 
> ps: i'll reply to all of your kind comments on my previous fics when i feel a bit more steady on my feet. but gods, all of you are cool cucumbers. ily so much.


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